


Uncertainty

by 96percentdone (Nakanaide)



Series: Understanding (LCC Except it's Gay Now) [2]
Category: Chaos;Child (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Ambiguous Relationships, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff without Plot, Insecurity, M/M, One Shot, rated T for Takuru is a Hormonal Teenager
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26170900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakanaide/pseuds/96percentdone
Summary: First dates are hard, especially when you're not very sure if this is one.AKA: I caved and wrote the actual date whoops.
Relationships: Itou Shinji (Chaos;Child)/Miyashiro Takuru
Series: Understanding (LCC Except it's Gay Now) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900462
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Uncertainty

The literature teacher drones on at the front of the classroom, writing down sentences to be analyzed that Takuru isn’t going to read. It’s the last class he has today. Can it drag on any slower? It’s usually a sluggish, tedious procedure, a waste of time before the parts of his day that matter (i.e: Newspaper Club), and today is no exception. In fact—Takuru sneaks a glance at the head of messy dark hair nearby—he thinks it’s probably worse.

Bzzt. His phone in his hand under his desk vibrates. He doesn’t bother to read the notification; he knows who it’s from.

Itou: wouldn’t it be easier to meet at LAX?

Takuru: You have to pass by Miyashita Park if you go home, so you might as well stop there first.

Itou: wow I didn’t realize you were that type of person~! ~.^

Takuru buries his face in his hands to keep from screaming during class. Hopefully, the teacher doesn’t notice. _I should have known he would do that, and yet!_ Still, despite his exasperation, there’s a smile still on his face, one that hasn’t left since this morning.

Takuru: I’m not!

Takuru: Asshole.

There’s a snort from nearby, followed by “Itou-kun, is there something you’d like to share with everyone?”

“No, sorry!”

“Then continue from where Tanaka-san left off.”

There goes his entertainment for a bit. Oh well. His phone tells him it’s 3:15. Five minutes before the day is over. Ten minutes before Newspaper Club officially starts.

Newspaper Club…what exactly do they say? They’re not going today, but the girls are bound to have questions. As it is, Kurusu had interrogated them when she unlocked the club room that morning and stumbled upon them, pushing the table back into place. And then there’s the trouble of Arimura-san…How do they lie to her? _Can_ they? _How did I end up in this situation again?_ Takuru’s leg shakes as he runs through possible scenarios; she’ll call them out on any bluff. The cat is already out of the bag and she hasn’t even confronted them yet!

And then the announcement plays, and class is over, leaving him with no more time to think.

“Yo,” Itou greets, despite having talked to him for all of today. He places Takuru’s silver battery pack and cord on the desk. “Thanks for letting me borrow this.”

“Ah, uh, no problem,” Takuru says. Itou frowns a little as they head out of the classroom. They’re out of time and he has nothing! Across the hall, he can see Arimura-san slowly make her way towards them, distracted by Serika and Kazuki. Crap.

“Mm? What’s up?”

“What are we going—”

“Ciao!” Arimura-san waves at them and Kazuki does the same. From a little behind her, Serika grins at him. _Help!_ But she only shakes her head in response. He can almost hear her say _‘You’ll have to help yourself Taku!’_ “Newspaper Club today right?’

“A-ah, yeah, about that—”

Itou puts a hand on his shoulder and with his usual casual smile says, “Actually, Miyashiro and I were going to go home after school.” _Is that going to work?_

But Arimura-san nods without any questions; not one hint of doubt crosses her face. “Mm, makes sense. You guys were stuck here overnight, right?” Serika looks at him as if to say ‘ _See?’_

 _I guess technical truths work on her._ Good to know. Takuru relaxes a little. “Yeah. Wakui-sensei seems to have locked us in without checking.”

“That guy is kind of an airhead huh?” Arimura-san says, and Kazuki grunts in agreement. “It almost seems like a manga.” And then a fannish twinkle lights her eyes. _Oh no_. “Did you—”

Serika finally speaks up, gently tugging Arimura-san’s sleeve. “Come on, Hina-chan, they already got questioned by Non-chan. Let them go.” She winks at Takuru as she drags the other girls off to the clubroom.

Takuru breathes a sigh of relief. That was way too close. Somehow, they made it out of that alive. _I don’t want to know what she was going to ask._ How are they going to deal with these situations in the future? (Is there a future? What is this exactly?) It’s not like they’re always going to have the convenient excuse of being trapped at school for over 24 hours. 

“Onoe’s ability is pretty convenient at times like this, right?” Itou asks as they make their way to the entrance hall. He’s way too relaxed for someone who was outed almost immediately.

“Yeah.” He’s not sure what they would have done if she didn’t step in. Maybe he’ll be reliant on her for this forever. _Wait, forever?_ Who said anything about that? He has yet to successfully navigate one day, forget that! Can he even manage one day?

“You worry too much,” Itou shakes his head at him with an amused expression. “Anyway, I guess I’ll text you when I’m on my way over?”

Takuru nods, and then they’re off their separate ways. _I better use this time carefully._

After one speedy shower—his anxiety was getting the better of him again—Takuru checks his phone, but there’s nothing there. Good. He still has time. Although he’d have some time even if there was, but he could use all of the time he can get.

What do people do on dates? That’s what this is right? Neither of them directly said as much, but Itou was the first one to reference the idea, and he went with that it so…? Is that how that works? Maybe? Crap, he doesn’t even know if this is a date anymore; how is he supposed to prepare for—whatever this is? _No. No, it has to be a date, what else could it possibly be in these circumstances?_ Okay, he’s just going to assume it’s a date and proceed from there. Maybe. That takes him back to his initial problem of ‘what do you DO if you have a date?’

Then it hits him: Cool Cat Press! Finally, his definitely-not-embarrassing tween boy magazine collection might have some practical use! He pulls them out of the cabinet above the table and takes a seat in the _Let’s see…_ ‘All the Techniques to Make her Moan!’ …Not that one. ‘How to Know When a Girl is Asking for it!’ Not that one either. Although, it would be helpful to know if he wanted it…Does—does he? He didn’t protest coming over here, and he made that joke, so what if— _stop it!_ The vague notion of being pinned to the wall is wiped from his mind. _Absolutely not!_ First of all, Itou always jokes like that, second of all, they’ve hung out here before, and last but most important of all, he is getting WAY too ahead of himself. He should worry about that later. Like…in a…week? Is that too fast or too slow— _Focus._

Takuru discards those in a separate pile. As he slowly sifts through his extensive stash (he didn’t realize he had this many) and starts tossing useless ones aside, he starts noticing a bigger problem—‘If you Tell a Girl to Come to see the Sea with you, She’ll Agree!’—these are all for dating women. _I’m not sure the same rules work here…_ Do they? Well, he can rule out the sex-related ones, unless Itou is…he’s never seen him without a shirt… _I wonder what—not again._ Okay, those are ruled out.

He’s pretty sure he’s not going to get any use out of any of the ones about breakups either. Hopefully. He thinks. Itou has been friends with him for this long, so it’s not like he’ll suddenly hate him, right? Unless he fucks this up. That’s still on the table. Then he won't have his best friend either. Was this a mistake? And then after a string of follies and foibles—

Itou sighs, running a hand through his bangs. “Man Miyashiro, you’re lame.”

“Wait, Itou—”

“Forget it. I’m going home. Don’t talk to me anymore.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“What’s not going to happen?”

A choked scream escapes Takuru’s mouth as he slowly turns up from the magazines to find Itou, poorly stifling the mischievous grin from his face. “Nothing! Nothing at all!” Scrambling to move all the scattered magazines to a single pile to be stashed away literally anywhere away from Itou _please,_ he asks “Weren’t you supposed to text me?”

“I did.” _He did?_ Pulling his phone from his pocket reveals the blinking green light that indicates someone texted him. “I even knocked before entering,” Itou explains as Takuru quickly reads the text from seven minutes ago. _I should have paid more attention!_ But it’s too late. Like it’s too late to realize he left his magazines exposed. “So…” Itou trails off, rummaging through the pages of the magazine in his hands, the flashy pink text on the cover reads ‘Leaving on a Journey to New Kiss Sensations’ “you’ve been reading up, I take it?”

Takuru wants to protest, to snatch the magazine out of Itou’s hands, and lock them all in a cabinet somewhere, but all he can manage is a whine of shame. “Give it back!” _Kill me._

“Guess you do study sometimes, huh?” Itou says, ignoring Takuru’s request and calling attention to the stickers that litter the pages of the accursed magazine. “Were you cramming just now?”

The shit-eating swing to his voice causes Takuru to bury his burning face in his hands. He nods. Nobody can help him now. His life is over. The date(?) is probably over too. Who would want to be seen with anyone who reads these kinds of magazines? Or even associated? Maybe Itou will quit the entire club—

“It’s cute.”

“Eh?” _Cute…?_ Takuru comes out of hiding, still struggling to fight off his growing embarrassment—‘it’s cute’, ‘it’s cute’, ‘it’s cute’ keeps repeating like a scratched record in his mind _—_ only to find Itou avoiding his eyes, faint traces of color on his face. Instead of replying he puts the magazine back on the table. _You’re the one who said it, not me!_ Besides, Itou is bashful now? _Itou?_ The guy who last night dared to spend the entire night holding him? _Really_? “Surprising.”

“Mm? What?” Itou peeks back at him, seemingly back to normal.

“Just, didn’t expect you to be shy after…everything.”

Instantly, Itou spins around and heads towards the door. “What—whatever man. What are we still doing here anyway? I’m hungry.” He’s not fooling anyone, but Takuru lets him have it. _Now, who’s being cute?_ The poor attempts to push past it are precious in their own way, he thinks, as he follows Itou out the door.

The walk from Miyashita Park into the bustling streets of Shibuya is marked by a lack of chit-chat, presumably because Itou is not as good at rebounding as he thinks he is. Well, that’s not entirely why. He glances at their hands, close enough to touch, and yet not. Should he? Would anyone notice with all the people hurrying about? Who are they amongst the crowd?

So he does, closing the distance between their open palms. Nothing happens. The crowds and cars still move through the busy streets, with no mind to pay for them, under the gleaming afternoon sun. _Of course._

He glimpses at Itou—huh? Since when was he that flustered? “Mi-Miyashiro,” comes stumbling from his mouth as his eyes anxiously dart this way and that. Interesting. Maybe the status quo changed in more ways than one. _Maybe I have the power now._

“Hm…? Something wrong?” Takuru slides his fingers between Itou’s, turning him a saturated shade of pink. This is almost too easy.

“I, well, um—”

“To think you’d be like this after last night,” with a snicker, Takuru sidles up closer, and Itou visibly gulps. No one who passes them notices. “Guess you’re not that bold normally.”

“Last night was different!” Itou squirms pointedly looking ahead to avoid Takuru’s gaze. It doesn’t stop him from fidgeting with his free hand. They’re moving much slower now. “Besides, there’s…there’s people!”

“Oh…?” This is too fun! How much has he been missing out on before now? “They don’t seem to care though.”

“I guess…”

“Do you want me to stop?”

And in the smallest voice imaginable, Itou says “No.”

Takuru smirks. “Didn’t think so.”

“Miiiiyaaasshiiiirooooo,” Itou elbows him, and Takuru blinks back into reality. About a block away, although difficult to read in the afternoon sunlight, is the vaguely dingy with white lettering reading ‘Café LAX’.

 _As if._ He’d probably die in his attempt to do that. “Hm?”

“Welcome back to real life. Have fun in fantasy land?”

“How—how did—”

Itou gives him a look, then sighs. “It’s always written on your face.”

Gulp. “Always?”

He nods and nudges Takuru playfully. “You seemed _pretty_ happy just now~ Care to share?”

“No! Shut up,” Takuru speeds ahead to the entrance. He can hear Itou sniggering behind him. “Anyway, we’re here.” He doesn’t bother holding the door open, letting the door close moments before Itou reaches it. His eyes slowly adjust to the low yellow lighting. As always, this place is near empty, with only a few scattered customers spread unevenly between the leather couches and wooden tables.

“Rude,” Itou grumbles after he enters, and the usual waitress leads them to their spot in the back. “Those magazines definitely didn’t recommend you do that.”

“Forget about the magazines!” Boy, he wishes he could forget about them, he thinks, hiding behind the menu booklet he’s only pretending to read. Realistically, he doesn’t need it. He’s just going to get himself a Mountain View and…maybe yogurt? He’s not that hungry, although Kurusu would be mad to discover he’s not eating much after what happened.

After telling the waitress his order, she leaves, and Itou raises an eyebrow at him. “What’s this? You’re going to eat something that isn’t a Calorie Block?”

“You’ve seen me eat other things before.”

“Yeah, except that’s because your sister forces you.”

…That’s true. “Do you have the right to judge me, sandwich guy?”

“Hmmm,” Itou’s hum is long and drawn out, folding his arms against the table. “Yeah, because at least a sandwich is real food.”

“How many BLTs have you eaten this week?”

“This would be my second. Besides, I only have sandwiches for snacks,” He says, and as if on cue the waitress silently gives them their food. “You have Calorie Blocks and Mountain View all the time.” Itou takes a sip from his coffee. 

“I’ve told you this before. Calorie Blocks and Mountain View are all—”

“Ah, whatever, I know, you’ve told me like twenty times,” Itou waves him off while eating his sandwich. “Don’t you get tired of doing that?”

“No,” Takuru says. Why would he? He hates wrong-siders and their logic. The Mountain View can pops open with a pleasant crack.

Across from him, Itou shakes his head, but even with his obvious exasperation, there’s a hint of fondness from the way his lips curve upwards. There’s a moment of tranquility while they eat, until he chortles, which turns into unceremonious giggling.

“Itou?”

“Sorry, I just—aha,” he keeps interrupting himself, curled up on his chair laughing—“it hit me what situation we’re in right now. Sneaking around together only to go to the usual place, like fugitives.”

Oh. Well—“Pfft”—when put like that, it does all sounds kind of ridiculous right? “Ahahahah!” What kind of secret is this anyway if they’re just ending up here, where the whole club goes? They’re doing the same things as always, except undercover. The only reason they’re slinking about anyway is because of the circumstances that lead to this. A date. (It’s a date, right? Yes, it’s a date.) Man, he has a date right now? This is what that is? Inside him is bubbly and warm. Takuru is giddy. “I’m still surprised how easy it was to get past Arimura-san.”

“Yeah but,” Itou’s still snickering as he takes another sip of his coffee, “she was like two seconds away from asking us if the plot of her favorite manga happened.”

“If she has her way, today’s club meeting will be dedicated to figuring out what happened last night.” Some part of Takuru is concerned about that, especially because he can’t lie to her, but mostly the image of Arimura-san slamming her hand against the corkboard yelling ‘let’s discuss’ only to speculate on what they did last night is comical.

“The Vice President won’t let her get very far though,” Itou says. “She probably has a list of local events we should write articles on already.”

“All the more reason to skip out today.”

“Yeah really. Can’t we cover something exciting for once?”

Takuru nods. His sister’s idea of journalism and his own have always been at odds. Even if he’s the club president, she’s so pushy that often things go her way regardless. No one can stand up to her. “Maybe you and I should start working on stuff by ourselves.”

“That might work.”

A few tables away, the man that’s been here reading a book for hours shouts in surprise. On the table lies a mug, tea spilling across the wood and dripping onto his lap. It’s a mess, and the waitress runs over to help clean up. Takuru turns back to his half-empty yogurt. he can’t imagine making a mess like that at that age, he thinks, grabbing himself another spoonful.

Gulp. Honestly, it doesn’t taste very good, but he might as well finish it sooner rather than later. He shovels down some yogurt, when—

“Hey, Miyashiro,” Itou says, pointing at a spot against his cheek.

“Mm?” Is there something on his face? Takuru swipes at his cheek with his thumb a few times but comes up with nothing.

Shaking his head, Itou says, “Here.” He reaches the short distance across the table— _huh?_ His hand brushes against Takuru’s cheek right by Takuru’s mouth. Soft until it’s gone. “You might want to slow down.” There’s the faintest hint of white now marking his index finger. He brings it up to his lips, and time moves at a tantalizing crawl when Itou licks it off.

Takuru’s heart skips. Does—does he realize what he’s doing?

Oblivious to Takuru’s plight, Itou says, “It’s pretty good. You gonna finish it?”

Takuru can only dumbly shake his head and watch as Itou takes it and the spoon. _Wait_ —he doesn’t manage to say out loud when Itou scraps out the last spoonful, his spoon, the one he’s been using this entire date and takes a bite. _An—an indirect kiss!_

“Oi Miyashiro?” Itou asks with worried grey eyes when Takuru nearly chokes on his yogurt.

 _Don’t be ridiculous!_ None of that would ever happen. Is he a child? “I’m fine, thanks.”

“One of these days you’ll have to share what you were thinking about,” Itou teases.

“I refuse.”

“Awww, come on!”

But Takuru doesn’t grace that whine with a response, merely gesturing to their now-empty cups and plates. “You’re finished, right?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The inside Central Shibuya Library is lit like a hospital, with bright white lights. While some of the dark wood bookshelves from before the earthquake are still standing, many of them were destroyed, and they were quickly replaced with much cheaper greenish metal ones and a plethora of book carts. There isn’t a reading area anymore, so much as the occasional scattered cushion or chair. Needless to say, the organization of this place is still something of a mess, even after several years. Despite all this, as Takuru and Itou make their way through the eclectic mix of shelves and carts, he feels like he’s made his way back home.

“This place doesn’t change,” Itou whispers, slowing to a stop in front of a cart that houses the vast majority of the manga.

“I guess they don’t care. Nobody ever stays here.” While it’s normal for people to come here, given its convenient location, people often leave after only a few minutes, whether they accomplished what they came to do or not. The lack of staying visitors probably killed all motivation.

“Well, we do,” he says, kneeling on the ground and skimming the titles.

“Yeah, and they don’t like us.”

“That’s because you get too heated.”

“And you don’t?!”

“See?” Itou gives a knowing smirk.

Okay, so Takuru might have walked into that, but be that as it may, he’s still not the only one. “You were the one who nearly got us kicked out, remember?”

Itou sputters and faces the shelves again. “That was one time!” he shouts, before mumbling something to himself. Based on the way he’s rifling through a random shoujo manga right now, it was probably about ‘Eiji-kun’.

An up and coming idol a few years ago, Harusaka Eiji was extremely popular with middle school girls, and also apparently, Itou. For once it was a quiet moment between them, Takuru was reading, and Itou was watching something on his phone. He watched whatever it was with a tiny smile. Happy. Takuru was bored and curious. Managing to catch a glimpse of his phone, he blurted out _‘You like idols? That stuff’s for wrong-siders.’_

Unsurprisingly, Itou got defensive, shutting his phone off and putting it away. _‘I just like the song!’_

_‘Then why were you watching the video?’_

_‘I was curious!’_

Needless to say, it devolved into an argument—‘his music is for girls’ ‘it is not!’—before Itou shouted, _‘Ugh, Miyashiro, nobody asked you! Leave me alone!’_ and the librarian came over and told them one more outburst and they’re both going to be banned. They didn’t talk to each other after that for a bit, at least until Itou caught him with that manga.

 _Ah._ Maybe that should have been the first hint that Itou was in the closet. At the time, Takuru didn’t get why he reacted that badly, but now he thinks… _That was…insensitive._ “…Sorry.”

“Huh?”

“None of that would have happened if I left you alone,” Takuru elaborates. Unable to face Itou, he gravitates towards the nearest bookshelf and starts flipping through the first title he sees.

There’s a pause. Is he angry? Upset? Resentful? Maybe it would have been better not to say anything about it at all. And then Itou says “It’s fine. It was four years ago; I don’t care anymore.”

“But—”

A hand gently takes his own; there’s only one person it could be. “It’s fine.” When he turns around, Itou lets go. Or maybe it was because someone walked through the nearby fiction section. Stretching, he stands up with a horror manga, which seems to be a collaborative work between a few different artists. Figures. “Besides, I got my revenge, right fudanshi?”

“Yeah, okay,” Takuru mutters and heads towards the nonfiction area. _Dick._ Anyway, doesn’t that book cover look familiar? “Haven’t you read that one already?”

“Mmm, no,” Itou says, flipping through the pages for something. “This one came out this summer.”

“They all look the same.”

“Miyashiro, do you need better glasses?” Ah, he’s going to rant again. It’s been a long time since he’s triggered one of these, Takuru thinks. “Stuff like _School-Live!_ looks nothing like _Uzumaki_! Moreover—”

Honestly, Takuru isn’t paying all that much attention to the words he says, so much as the animated way he says it, skipping between chapters to showcase different art styles and features. There’s an excited sheen to his eyes. Smiling slightly, Takuru turns to the true-crime shelves, Itou still rambling behind him.

The nonfiction section is one of the only parts of the library that’s largely intact. Yesterday he learned about another book published Uehara murder they were talking about yesterday, which got mixed reviews. This probably means it’s written by wrong-siders, but in case it inspires him he wants it. Itou is still comparing the differences between the works of Oshimi Shuuzou and Itou Junji behind him. “I know. There’s a difference between psychological horror and body horror, right?”

From the corner of his eye, Itou lights up. “So, you do get it!”

“Obviously,” Takuru says. _My boyfriend is cute._ Wait, boyfriend? While crouched on the floor tracing across the different titles his face heats up. This is a date, so…yes? Except some people date for a while without being official, right? Is that it? Does he ask?

“You know, you make fun of me for liking guro, and here you are, blushing at the true-crime nonfiction…”

That only makes it worse. “I—it’s not—”

“Hmm….?” The lilt Itou adopts when poking fun of Takuru is as irritating as it is attractive. “So, what was it then?”

“Nothing! It wasn’t anything!” Ugh, there’s no way he’s explaining this. Especially not here. The nearby worker returning books gives them a pointed glare. They’re being too loud again. Where is the book he’s looking for?

A book whose cover contains a single scrap of yellowed paper over empty darkness appears in front of his face. “You’re looking for this right?”

“Yeah.” Taking the book their hands meet for a second. A fleeting touch, even more so than before, but it lingers all the same. _I want…_ to do more. To be able to exist without worrying about the wandering eyes of strangers. “Hey, Itou.”

“Mhm?”

“Do you want to go back to my place?” Crap! Maybe he shouldn’t have worded it like that; it’s Itou! He’s practically inviting him to make a sex joke.

But it doesn’t come; silence does. Itou’s face is a mixture of nerves and… eagerness? In an uncharacteristically quiet voice, he says “Yeah.”

A sigh leaves Takuru once the door to his RV opens. _Finally._ Itou, with the familiarity of someone who lives here, slips past him and takes off his shoes. Even back when Takuru still lived at Aoba dorm, he was like this. They’ve never been to his place; Takuru has never asked why.

“I guess this place is convenient,” Itou says.

“Hm?” They never really talked about why Takuru moved here. He explained why, and Itou shrugged, but he always got the vague sense that Itou wasn’t satisfied hearing that.

“If you live alone in a trailer, nobody can bother you.”

“RV.”

“Same difference,” Itou waves him off. _Do I have to explain yet again the difference between—_ but the thought is cut off when he sits on Takuru’s bed. A perfectly normal thing, he’s been here before, and yet now it suddenly seems different. Is. Is it _that_ ? Is that it? _Am I even ready for that?_ “Are you just gonna stand by the door forever?” He pats the area next to him on the blue mat. Presenting the manga he borrowed he says “Get over here. We’re reading this.”

“Why that…?” Do they have to? He doesn’t care for horror.

“Because it’s a lot easier than a dense novel-length thesis about an unsolved murder case, and you read too fast.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Fine. They’ll do what he wants, Takuru decides while taking his seat. There are a few inches of space between them he can’t bring himself to close. _Well, last night—_ was a fluke. What’s acceptable when you’re trapped in a room with someone and debatably sick isn’t the same as when you’re just hanging out with them. Except, they’re dating. Right?

His endless insecurities are halted when Itou flips to the first page. Holding the book between them he asks. “Do you wanna voice act?”

“No.”

“Guess I’ll play all parts by myself then.” _And he calls me a dork._ “There’s something different about my family lately,” he begins. Despite his declaration, he still just sounds like Itou in a higher pitch, as opposed to the high school girl narrating the work.

“You’ve already failed this audition.”

“There go my voice acting dreams.”

“It’s for the best.”

Irrespective of Takuru’s scathing review, Itou continues to read aloud, the so-called voice-acting oscillating between cartoonish and indistinct. He takes Takuru’s sarcastic commentary in stride, at points even ramping it up out of spite, but it’s fun. The manga itself is…how does he put this? Unsettling. At first, it seems like she’s overreacting; that her family isn’t ignoring her, they’re simply busy. They still talk to her. But slowly, as the days pass, with every page turn, she stops existing to them at all.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Honestly, if not for Itou’s over the top performance (and the inescapable shadowy presence that lurks in the house), he wouldn’t be able to read this. He’s never gone into a lot of detail about his childhood, but he probably never had to. He suspects Itou figured it out.

“The blurb made this seem like it was going to be more about the shadow monster.”

He doesn’t need to justify himself. “I’m fine. I just can’t take your comical voices seriously.”

“It’s a talent to sound this much like Doraemon.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Itou snickers and returns to reading, his shoulder brushing up against Takuru’s. When did they get this close? Somehow the space between them closed. Maybe it was to make reading a small manga easier. Or maybe not. If he wanted, he could rest his head against that blue hoodie-clad shoulder. It’d be comfortable, especially with the lulling effect Itou reading to him has. Can he? Or is that too far?

He doesn’t think he knows what they are, although maybe he should. After all, Itou seems pretty okay with this. Every once and a while beneath his usual veneer Takuru catches him fidgeting with his clothes, or smiling for no reason. Is he nervous? Or happy? Both? Itou once again runs a hand through his hair. _He’s distracting._

He’s having a hard time keeping up with the plot now. The shadow creature that’s been following her everywhere the main character goes has a more solid form, one that eerily resembles her, so it’s probably draining her energy? It’s draining her existence away? Or something? They explained this, but Takuru was a little too caught up in the way Itou is nestled against his side, and every time he turns the page the feeling of movement tears his attention away from the book and back to Itou. Is this only his problem?

Itou breaks character and grumbles, “You could predict how it ends based on the first chapter. They’re not doing anything new.” _Apparently not._

“Ah, yeah,” Takuru replies. That’s probably true, right? He doesn’t know. How is he supposed to know when he can’t pay attention?

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, huh?” Itou rests the book down on his lap and smiles wryly. “So, is it finally time for me to find out where you drift off to?” Nudge.

Does he have to? Explaining his worries to Itou—what if he laughs? What if he thinks Takuru is an idiot? _What if I am a wrong-sider?_ He can feel Itou’s gaze—patient but imploring—on him. Unable to meet it he stares at the book, at the mismatched collection of styles (moe, realistic, grotesque). There isn’t a choice is there? At some point, he’ll have to say something; it might as well be now. “Are we…” _together?_ The words are lodged in his throat. A cool hand slides into his and squeezes. Itou doesn’t say anything, letting his gentle grip coax the words out of him. “a thing?”

He expects to be snarked at for his childish wording, but all Itou does is ask “Do you want to be?” Yes. Unambiguously yes. Why else would he be stressing over it this much? Before he can answer, Itou lets out a whispered “I do.” Takuru meets his eyes only for him to look away, red in the face. “I’ve always wanted to because I…”

Even left unfinished, Takuru says “I know.” _I KNOW?!_ What the hell is he saying? This isn’t _Spark Wars_! “Aa-aaah!” What does he say? How does he fix this? Itou’s hold on his hand loosens as Takuru scrambles to find something, ANYTHING to say. “I—” his voice drops. Gulp. “I do. Want to, that is.” Knowing that it’s mutual didn’t make it any easier to admit it out loud.

A sigh as the hand grasping his tightens. There’s a long pause before anyone speaks again. “This is kind of anticlimactic,” Itou says with a breathy laugh.

 _That’s one hell of a takeaway._ “What were you expecting?” Fireworks? A confession hollered across the campus courtyard in front of an audience of shocked students?

“Nothing,” he replies, scratching at his head a little. Then he smirks. “I bet you were though. What was that article again…?”

Damn it; he was hoping they’d moved past that! Of course, Itou wouldn’t forget about his Collection of Shame. “Shut up!” Takuru says, lightly shoving Itou with his shoulder. Maybe he needs to burn it. Why is he the only one being made fun of anyway? “Besides, you were the one who did the cheesy ‘give them your jacket’ gesture’ last night.”

“That’s—I was—I thought you might be sick!” Itou stutters. Ah, there we go. Now Itou can squirm instead of him. Fiddle endlessly with his metal pendant while unable to meet Takuru’s eyes.

A sardonic nod. “And that’s why you let me sleep on you that afternoon too?” Takuru should have played this earlier. It’s his trump card, and it’s _delightful._ “Rather bold for someone without any expectations.”

“Miyashiro!” There’s a thump as the manga falls from Itou’s lap to elsewhere on the mat. Takuru is frozen in place. _Eh…?_ Strands of dark hair tickle his neck as Itou hides against his shoulder. Every breath that Itou takes is hot against his collar. What—what does he do? What is he supposed to do? _It’s…it’s so warm…_ Was it always this hot? Or is it because they’re so close?

The harsh sound of clothes shifting against the bed snaps is Takuru’s only warning sign. A newfound weight sits in his lap. Both of Itou’s hands are on his collar. “I…” His words are low and shaky, “I can’t take it anymore.” Intense dark eyes bore into his own.

 _That’s not it!_ It’s even hotter now, with Takuru’s burning face. Somehow, he’s shifted so they’re facing each other. An unconscious reflection of his delusion? _That’s definitely not it_ ; they haven’t even kissed yet. K-kissed? He’s right here. If Takuru wanted he could grab him and— _Can_ he do that? Does he have the balls to?

Then a smugly grinning face appears in front of his own, mere inches away from his own. When did they get like this? “I might be, but,” Itou says, every word dripping with amusement at Takuru’s expense. There’s a self-satisfied gleam in those eyes. “you’re into it.”

 _Fuck._ He’s right. Takuru’s heart is pounding so hard it seems moments away from bursting from his chest. Itou’s still gazing at him. Even with mussed up black hair, or perhaps because of it, he’s gorgeous. Was he always this attractive? Did he always have grey eyes that change in different lighting? “Pretty...” The shade of crimson that blooms on his cheeks is beautiful too. And to think that merely two days ago Takuru wouldn’t have acknowledged any of it. _I was missing out._

Bzzt. Moment’s over. Scowling, Itou sits back and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Tch. I have to go.” With a sigh, he swipes the discarded manga from the bed.

“Family?”

A nod. “I haven’t been home for over a day, and—honestly, it’s not worth getting into,” Itou says, still frowning. This is probably the most Takuru has ever gotten about his family in their years of friendship. There’s a lot he wants to ask, but he won’t. It’s not the time. Finally, Itou smiles a little. “This was fun.”

With a tiny smile, Takuru replies “Yeah.” Is this it, he asks himself, trailing behind his boyfriend (boyfriend!) to the door. He watches as Itou slowly puts his shoes back on, unable to say anything. _Earlier…if it wasn’t for his phone vibrating, I would have…_ Too late. Right?

Itou stands in front of the doorway, his hand on the knob. The lighting is worse here, but even in relative darkness, there’s a shine to his eyes. “See ya.”

“Itou.” He can borrow him for a few more minutes, right? What difference will it make?

“Mm?” Takuru takes one step. Then another, until there’s no distance between them. Up close traces of Itou’s blush are easier to see. “Miyashiro—”

Soft. His lips are soft, albeit slightly chapped. Takuru misaimed and got a little bit of his cheek (he closed his eyes too soon), Itou’s response is momentarily delayed (surprise?), and overall, it’s far too brief. A second or two of intimacy. _Cool Cat Press oversold this._ Upon opening his eyes, the first thing he sees is Itou’s stunned expression, his hand once on the door now slack at his side. _Well, at least there’s that_ , Takuru chuckles, still clutching the hood of his blue sweatshirt. “I think you’re also into that.”

Snort. “What an obvious takeaway,” Itou says, cupping Takuru’s cheeks. For a moment, nothing happens, he just stares in a mix of disbelief and awe. Then he kisses him. And again. And again, and every kiss they share is better than the one before. Sweeter. He tastes the way he smells, like the black coffee he drinks, and maybe a little of something else Takuru still can’t identify. The first kiss is oversold. Sparks didn’t fly, and fireworks didn’t go off, and while he wouldn’t call this electric, this moment here, in the doorway of Takuru’s RV, is like solving piece after piece of a puzzle.

It ends when he starts laughing. Since when was he, Miyashiro Takuru noted right-sider, this…emotional? He doesn’t know. A whole lot has changed in 24 hours, and yet “I never thought I’d be here like this.” Why would he be here? Why _wouldn’t_ he be here? Through fits of laughter, he manages to say “I thought I was straight, and now—”

“Yeah, I also thought you were straight,” Itou agrees, unable to stifle his own amused and perhaps also sheepish giggling. With a flushed face and mirthful adoring gaze, he says, “I sort of overcompensated for that reason.”

“No kidding, skirt-chaser.” Is this a comedy? A story of two idiots, one who believes he’s a straight man, and the other only playing the part, friends until the whims of fate forced them out of the status quo? It’s surreal. Inexplicable, and yet simultaneously entirely natural. Impossibly inevitable. _I’m a wrong-sider after all,_ and what a delight that is. There’s so much for Takuru to learn, about Itou, about himself, but first—“I like you.”

“I know,” Itou returns with a cheeky grin.

“Smart-ass.” _I’m never living that down huh?_ Playfully shoving Itou, he says “I take it back; get out of my house.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, tsuntsun Miyashiro~!” Cackling, Itou waves and walks outside. _Bastard,_ Takuru thinks, still cracking a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so last time I did this I got kudos from a mystery person who isn't Cass, and on the off-chance that happens again, hello to you thanks for reading my incredibly niche fic!


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